


Forgiveness is a Virtue (Even Where It Has No Place)

by Myrime



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Don't copy to another site, First Meetings, Gen, Human shield, Introspection, On the Run, Protective Clint Barton, Protective Phil Coulson, SHIELD, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-04
Updated: 2019-10-04
Packaged: 2020-11-23 14:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20893289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Myrime/pseuds/Myrime
Summary: Natasha lets SHIELD catch her, hoping for a painless end. Instead, the agent who has found her refuses to shoot. Then he refuses to leave. (She does not know that he will be the one who will teach her about family.)





	Forgiveness is a Virtue (Even Where It Has No Place)

**Author's Note:**

> For the [Whumptober 2019](https://whumptober2019.tumblr.com/) Day 4: Human Shield

Natasha is not going to fight. Or she is going to fight just enough to make it not worth the trouble to take her in. She is tired of being at someone’s mercy. One last time is what she has promised herself. SHIELD is a worthy foe and if she plays this just right, they will put a bullet in her head right away instead of trying to extract information from her beforehand.

The chase is almost fun. Natasha loves outsmarting the other side. That is far more satisfying than playing the simpering woman whose only asset is her boobs. The inevitability of men thinking they own her is tiring. She is done with that. Done with everything.

She does not have a mission, but she pretends to. A camera catches her lurking, a man disappears, information gets sold. Natasha knows how to be invisible, but she also knows how to be seen. For this last magic trick, she needs SHIELD to see her.

They come for her in Rome. She likes the city. More blood has covered the ancient cobblestone than even she could ever accumulate in her ledger. Of course, Rome will still be standing even when she does not.

Natasha runs like she is new to this game, like she is desperate. Well, that last part might be true, but she is not looking to escape like they think she wants to.

Unbeknownst to them, the place for their showdown is carefully chosen. Old streets, empty alleys. Nobody is going to stumble upon them. Natasha has enough death on her conscience. When she stops in the middle of an alley, agents closing in around her, she does so with peace on her mind.

Life does not hold any surprises for her anymore. The path forward is very clear. And yet.

She does not expect the SHIELD agent to be younger than her. She does not expect him to lower his gun. She does not expect him to walk towards her as if there are not a dozen kill orders on her head.

“I’m not going to shoot you if you don’t make me,” he says, his voice almost unbearably soft.

Funny. That is exactly what Natasha wants. She does not say so, however, but keeps watching him. He is not even wearing a mask. His hair is dirty blond and in artful disarray. Beneath his dark jacket, she catches a glimpse of purple.

“I’m alone,” he says when she remains silent, still full of patience.

Natasha knows that is a lie, but she lets him come closer nonetheless. Perhaps SHIELD is not above using their junior agents as bait, despite knowing what she is capable of.

He might look like he wants to keep his promise of not shooting her, but Natasha knows how to make men angry, how to get them to give her exactly what she wants. She does not particularly care much for how she dies. Quick and painless would be preferable, but she probably deserves messy. Pain is not something that will dissuade her from her mission.

All of Natasha’s instincts scream at her to move, to not let him come any closer. The Red Room trained her well, but she clenches her jaw and remains where she is. Watching. Waiting. Ready.

Then the agent is in range then for her to – do any number of things. Take him down, maim him, kill him. She could also plead with him to put an end to this. The words will not come to her and she does not have the time to be annoyed at herself for that because he is still coming closer.

Raising one hand, Natasha tests his reaction, as little as there is. He hesitates for a moment, but not as if he is reconsidering his life choices. He looks at her like he wonders about giving her space. For her sake, not his.

Natasha has to reconsider SHIELD being a worthy enemy if that is who they send out to catch her. She has a reputation.

“I won’t hurt you,” the agent says as if he expects her to be afraid of pain. His expression is earnest. His face looks like it is made for laughing.

“Liar,” Natasha says in Russian, giving it a bite so he does not have to understand her to get the gist of it.

In response, he grimaces, looking almost hurt as if he expected her to fall into his arms and offer herself up to SHIELD, all her secrets ready for them to pluck.

With a loud clatter, he lets his gun fall to the ground. Despite herself, Natasha flinches. She cannot make sense of him.

They stand across from each other, mere feet between them, and Natasha does not know what to do. This was not the plan. She was hoping for a bullet between her eyes or maybe her head bashed in against the cobblestone. Some pain was to be expected. But this?

While she watches him, he cocks his head slightly to the side, even takes his eyes off her.

“I’m not going to kill her,” he snaps suddenly, showing the first sign of irritation. With an abrupt movement, he pulls an earpiece out of his ear, throws it onto the ground next to the gun.

“I’m mostly deaf,” he tells her conversationally. “They seem to think I don’t mean to go against my orders because of that. But I do. They’re shit orders.”

So SHIELD does want to kill her. That is good. She graduated from the Red Room at the top of her class, with blood on her hands before she ever set foot into the real world. She is the Black Widow, she is dangerous.

“You should listen to them,” Natasha says, keeping her voice low and adding a slight Russian accent, just to remind him of who she is.

The agent smiles as if she said something pleasant.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he repeats, a firmness in his tone that reeks of stubbornness. “Neither on their orders nor on yours.”

Natasha remains still. Americans do not take any kindlier to insubordinations than the KGB does. Even if he means his words, his entourage of agents will get the job done.

“I’m Clint,” he says, going so far as to smile at her.

That throws her off for a second. She still sees the shadows behind him move and before she can think it through, her body is in motion, instinct taking over where she had pushed so hard to keep them down this night.

It does not take more than a second, but before the red dots of SHIELD’s snipers can settle on her, Natasha has the man – Clint – in a stronghold, a knife at his throat, effectively using him as a shield.

She expects him to struggle, but he almost leans into her touch, makes himself wider to keep her covered. This night is getting stranger by the minute.

“What are you doing?” Clint yells. Curiously enough, this does not seem to be aimed at Natasha, for he adds, quieter, “They aren’t going to shoot. Let me talk them down.”

Natasha wonders whether he is as tired of life as she is or whether he is simply unable to grasp the very real danger he is in. She hopes SHIELD values its agents’ lives more than what she is used to.

“Don’t move,” Natasha hisses as she tries to pinpoint where exactly the snipers are located. She has chosen this spot to make her effectively trapped, thinking that a bullet she does not see coming might have been a kind way to go.

Clint pushes slightly against her to get her to move further back.

“They’re going to come up from the other side too,” he says as if she does not know. He still does not sound afraid, and if there is worry in his voice, she feels like it is still directed at her.

Natasha is tempted to simply slit his throat and vanish. Her plan is already in shambles, but she can find her death somewhere else. Plenty of people would not hesitate to take down Black Widow. Yet, she keeps Clint firmly in front of her, calculating how quickly she will have to move if the other agents decide to fire despite Clint being right in front of her. She is not going to let him die for her, no matter that he obviously does not have the guts for the career he has chosen.

A figure comes out of a neighbouring alley. He walks with the kind of forced calm that tells Natasha he is actually agitated. Perhaps they do care for Clint’s life.

“Phil,” Clint calls before the other man has completely come into view. “Stop this nonsense.”

_Phil_ appears unarmed. He has his earpiece in and looks like one word of him will make the men around them loose their entire magazines into Natasha. He does not look much like an agent either, too proper, something genial clinging to his movements.

“Black Widow,” he says, and there is steel in his voice. “Let him go.”

That is the threat she has been waiting for all night. It is the kind of tone that promises a messy end if she does not comply. Natasha tightens her hold on Clint, ready to get this over with.

“She’s not going to do that while you’re pointing guns at her,” Clint protests, still sounding strangely irritated.

“Clint.”

Time comes to a standstill as neither of them is willing to move. Clint shields Natasha as much as she is holding him in place, the knife feeling familiar in her hand even though she does not want to use it. Phil stands in front of them, looking like he would switch places with Clint without a moment of hesitation, even while glaring at Clint for messing up their mission.

Natasha does not know what makes her let the knife drop from Clint’s throat. Much later, she can admit it was because of the raw worry in Coulson’s voice. This was not just a superior annoyed at one of his men dancing out of line. This was not a general trying to avoid the death of a soldier. No, this was a man worried about the well-being of a friend.

It baffles her without being able to put a name to it, that anyone in their line of work could be concerned with the men underneath them. More so, friendship is a completely foreign concept for her, and it will be years until she can treasure it.

At that moment, she does not yet want to be a part of that. She just does not want Clint’s blood on her hands, not when they are dripping red already. So she lets go and pushes Clint away from her.

He stumbles forward with a short yell but catches himself quickly. Following every other stupid thing he has done this night, he moves right back in front of Natasha, keeping his back to her as if she is not the enemy.

“Don’t shoot,” Clint says and someone echoes it in the dark.

Still, there is one long, breathless moment in which they all expect a bullet to fly. Natasha would welcome it, still, even if she does not want to die in front of someone who spared her life, who is still shielding it.

Only when Phil nods tightly in front of them and all the laser dots have vanished does Clint turn around. He looks even younger now, relief etched on his face.

“They’re going to take you in, but I’ll find you,” he says and makes it into a promise, even though Natasha has no experience with those. “Tomorrow? Lunch?”

Natasha does not know what to say, but he does not seem to hold it against her. While more men rush in from the darkness, he stays at her side as long as he is allowed to, still keeping guard.

They do take Natasha in and put her into an interrogation chamber she is sure she will not leave in the foreseeable future. She regrets her lenience, her cowardice that caused her to end up here. She holds onto that for exactly half a day. Right up until Clint barges into the room, sends the man asking her endless questions out and serves her still hot pizza.

The food is horrible. The company, however, is not. She never expected herself capable of friendship, but that is just one of many things Clint teaches her over the years.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.


End file.
